Soldiers Three
by Cornix
Summary: Revised, Director's Cut compatible version. A story in which four men try to keep the peace, three men wax nostalgic, two men get drunk and one man blows a fuse. Or: Why Godfrey went to France.


Author's notes: I took the opportunity to revise this story to make it compatible with the Director's Cut of _Kingdom of Heaven_. Not much of a task as that could be accomplished with a few tiny alterations! I haven't had the time to watch the bonus material of the extended version. From what I gather from the movie itself there are two possibilities. Either Godfrey had a relationship with a woman who wasn't yet married but did marry the village blacksmith soon after, soon enough for her son to pass for her husband's, officially at least. Or he committed adultery with the smith's young wife. For a number of reasons I am going for the first possibility. Correct me if I missed something.

I probably won't even try to revise _Rosa Mundi_, _Heir Apparent_ and _Crossroads_ – the first two don't really need it, and with _Crossroads_ it would amount to a major rewrite.

The original warnings still apply: Strictly movieverse – I don't write stories about real people. Rated T for language, alcohol consumption and mention of extramarital sex and the results thereof.

A story in which four men try to keep the peace, three men wax nostalgic, two men get drunk and one man blows a fuse. A prologue of sorts, set in Jerusalem approx. 1184.

**---------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Soldiers Three**

They had all been rather drunk that evening. Well, not _all_ of them, but he and Godfrey certainly.

In hindsight it had been inevitable. He loved Godfrey as a brother, and the Marshal of Jerusalem had a well-earned reputation for not indulging in debauchery, but some days were bound to end that way and no other.

He had been on his way to see the King. Nothing untoward had happened that day, but there were a few things he needed to bring to his lord's attention. It was late afternoon, pale orange flecked the sky, and even Tiberias would have admitted that it had been a fair day promising an equally fair evening.

He met the King's physician in the antehall. The man was coming the other way with two attendants and greeted him with an austere nod, and involuntarily Tiberias walked faster. _Two_ attendants?

The guard admitted him without demur, however. He had found the King in a chair by the study window, looking out at that orange sky spanning the city but turning when he heard him coming in.

"Ah, Tiberias. In good time – I am newly out of my physician's hands."

"Bad news?" he had asked.

"No. Just the usual," his lord and master had replied, sounding for all the world faintly amused.

"I will return tomorrow, then," he had said, knowing as he did that these examinations always left the King exhausted.

"No. Stay. I would rather hear it now –," and Tiberias, quickly gauging his liege's mood, had stayed. Stayed longer than intended, because they had ended up over the game of chess left half-played a few days earlier. And it had reminded him of the reason they had not finished the game that evening. Then for a while he had been preoccupied, fatally – for the King played with abandon, rectifying a bad situation and smoothly pressing on until Tiberias, finding himself outmaneuvered on all fronts, tipped his own black king over in resignation.

Tiberias felt that he should not have stayed to play that game, and having played it, should not have lost. For the King had asked him where his thoughts had been, his tone implying that he knew. And Tiberias heard the kindness in that tone, and, suddenly, the weariness, and cursed himself for ten kinds of fool and took his leave.

Sometimes he forgot how young his King was. Sometimes he even forgot that he was dying.

He strode back through the cool evening in a black temper, and on reaching his own quarters found the Hospitaller there, having drifted in some time earlier and helping himself to the water and wine and dates the servants had brought.

"What kept you?" the Hospitaller asked casually. He had a name, but none of them ever used it.

"Game of chess," Tiberias shot back, grabbing a cup and some bread and flinging himself down in the nearest seat.

Hospitaller's sandy brows rose. "Ah," he said mildly. "Who won?"

„He did," snarled Tiberias, in no mood to be gracious. It did not improve his temper when his old friend silently saluted him with the cup and drank, not quickly enough to hide the twinkle in his eye.

He had not finished his belated meal when Godfrey turned up, to take his leave, he said – he was bound to return to his crumbling pile on the morrow. In the shadow of Kerak, no less. There were those who wondered why the King had not given his onetime teacher a better feoff. And why Godfrey never asked for one.

That led to politics, as it was bound to do. The city had been quiet of late. Godfrey voiced the opinion that this was because the chief troublemakers were occupied elsewhere. "How long has Guy been gone now?"

"More than four months." For some reason Hospitaller always knew these things. "He has had little luck in southern France. He is going on towards Normandy."

"May France's sweet earth swallow him without a trace," Godfrey muttered, and the two others raised their cups in silent agreement.

"We need men, though," groused Tiberias . "Not the rabble _he_ finds, but we need them."

"Gerard is going back to Lombardy," Hospitaller remarked.

"I know. At least he leaves his sons."

"Ah well, in that case." Godfrey laughed softly. "He's earned himself a quiet old age."

"He has?" inquired Hospitaller.

"Saved our asses." Godfrey gave him a surprised look. "I never told you that? Tiberias was there. We were holding a ridge. Barely. A few rocks, no shade, a steep slope in front and another behind. Don't ask me how we got stuck up there – it's not a pretty story." Godfrey grinned, and even Tiberias' lips twitched. "Anyway, we couldn't leave, because they were coming up that slope, their archers would have picked us off the moment they reached the top. Tiberias had the grand idea of storming down right into them – we had a total of three horses left – and trying to break through to _their_ horses down below. We were actually getting ready to do it when we heard this thundering sound approaching, and there was Gerard with his men coming up the slope behind us at full speed, yelling like a madman – going right past us and down the other side. Made a dreadful mess of them. He'd seen Tiberias' standard from the valley, and guessed the rest."

Hospitaller nodded appreciatively, although his smile was wry. "Who were they?"

"How should I know? Some scouting party I'd say. They outnumbered us, is all... Well, afterwards they picked up their dead and we picked up ours, and we all went home to lick our wounds. That was before the truce, obviously. Good God, has that really been four years?"

"Five," Tiberias said.

In the brief silence that followed Hospitaller quietly refilled the cups and raised his.

"The King, my lords."

"The King," Tiberias said soberly.

"God keep and bless him," muttered Godfrey.

Hospitaller leaned back to contemplate his cup; then he tilted his head sideways. "Did I see the Patriarch's secretary calling at your office today?"

"Yes, he did," retorted Tiberias, "and yes, you were mentioned. His master is concerned about the choices of confessor some of this city's nobles make."

Godfrey snorted over his wine. Hospitaller merely looked serene. "What did you say?"

"Told him to take it up with _them_... Told him we go way back, you and I. When I said _Aleppo_ he shut up. He thinks I set a bad example, though. He'll pester the King about it, or else his master will."

"I suppose you warned the King?" said Godfrey.

Tiberias smiled rather ferally. "I did."

Godfrey leaned back and stretched his legs. "He won't pester _me_," he said with satisfaction. "He knows that I know what he did in Lebanon. Before he took his vows."

"Well?" said Tiberias at exactly the moment Hospitaller said: "Oh?"

It went downhill from there. From Godfrey's rather uncomplimentary tale they progressed through a few of Hospitaller's anecdotes to an episode from the campaigns of '74 and a couple more anecdotes, and then it was Godfrey's turn again.

Godfrey, by then, was far from sober. Something about the tales – Hospitaller's account of a skirmish with some Bedouin raiders that had nearly cost him an ear, perhaps, or Godfrey's own memories of Lebanon, or even his impending departure to Ibelin – must have put him in a melancholy mood, and by the time they noticed it was too late. Godfrey became maudlin when in his cups. Tiberias knew it, Hospitaller knew it, and when sober Godfrey knew it too. Usually it passed when he had another cup. Not always, though.

And so they both knew what was coming when Godfrey morosely recounted the story of that ill-fated arrow, slurring the words and sinking deeper into gloom, bemoaning the fact that never now would there be a House of Ibelin to carry on the name as he had bemoaned it a dozen times before. And sure enough, after another gulp of wine it came.

"I had a son, you know. A fine son. I never took one look at him. Never. Didn't want to. Never thought I'd ever want to. I was the lord's brother. There'd be others I wouldn't have to be ashamed of –" He reached for the wine and refilled all their cups, none too steadily.

"We know, Godfrey," Hospitaller said gently.

"Yes, but you don't know this –" And on it went. How he had never invoked his noble name to get what he wanted, never, only this once, for infatuation, nothing better than that...

"It was not for you to safeguard her virtue. You've done nothing wrong," Tiberias said rather brusquely.

"It _was_ wrong, Tiberias. Should have put her out of my mind, let her get married to that fellow..." And he lost himself in vague recollections of _the poor girl_ – more likely a stout matron now, as Tiberias had reminded him before, and probably not poor, and certainly no worse off than many others – she hadn't been unwilling to begin with, and if _that_ was the worst Godfrey had ever –

To which Godfrey responded by shaking the cup in his face – an unwise gesture, because just then it was fuller than either of them had realized – and accusing him, voice cracking with drunken passion, of being a heartless, unfeeling monster that had never known affection for any soul on God's wide Earth, no wonder he didn't know what it was like to lose –

He hadn't been sober at that point himself. If he had been he would have let it pass. But he was not, and listening to Godfrey's stupid tale for the hundredth time was bad enough, and everything this evening appeared to conspire against him, to remind him why it was they were sitting here, the three of them, drinking his wine and reminiscing over long-fought battles, holding those yet to come at bay...

He could still feel the light touch of those white-gloved fingers on his arm.

"Look here, Godfrey," he said, suddenly and savagely, slamming his own cup down on the table, wine splashing over his fingers. "We've been listening to this for years now – _years_ – and I'm tired to death of it. Why don't you –"

"Tiberias," Hospitaller said, actually sounding a little alarmed. He ignored it.

"Don't lecture me, Godfrey. You're talking about loss? All you've lost is your goddamn _testicle_" – he was close to shouting, and both Godfrey and Hospitaller were staring, momentarily dumbfounded – "you'd think the world had ended that day – well, it hasn't. You _have_ a son, damn you, you're not fathering any others, so go find the one you made when you still could or else shut up –"

"By God I will," Godfrey roared, tears streaming down his face. "I don't need this from you, you know. I swear I'll go – d'you hear me, Tiberias? – I swear a sacred oath – leaving tomorrow. I'll find him – he's my heir, my only heir, there'll never be another, no need to get all high and mighty about it, _Count_ –"

"What's that –" Tiberias flared up, but Godfrey was having none of it.

"You know what? You're right. Could've told me that before. Could've thought of it before, myself. No cause to insult me, though..." And he rose with immense dignity, clutching at Hospitaller's shoulder for support, and set the cup back on the table with great care. "I think," he said, sounding almost sober for a moment, "that was enough of your wine."

"You're leaving?"

"I'm leaving. I've preparations to make, you know –," and he stared at the intricately tiled wall as if wondering where the door had gone.

"I'll see you home," Hospitaller said, rising in his turn.

Tiberias saw them to the door, not entirely steady on his feet himself, and then retired, cursing, to his bed.

Hospitaller turned up on the morning, looking serene and squinting contentedly into the sun, to Tiberias' disgust. But then Hospitaller drank both Godfrey and Tiberias under the table when he felt like it, and didn't drink much at all when he didn't. The man truly was a disgrace to his order, as they had told him before.

"How's Godfrey?" asked Tiberias.

"Sore, I think," replied Hospitaller placidly. "I'll go see him later, help him arrange things."

"He's actually going?"

"He certainly meant to, yesterday... I believe he will."

"He is needed here," Tiberias said without thinking.

"Tiberias, it has been eating him for a long time. You know that. Let him go and look for the lad if that will give him some peace. Fate hasn't been kind to him over his sons."

There did not seem to be an answer to that. After a pause Tiberias nodded curtly. "I'm coming too."

The servant led them into the small upstairs hall where Godfrey sat, wrapped in a robe and glumly contemplating a large cup of water. He gave an unenthusiastic gesture on seeing them, and then he frowned when Tiberias just stood, arms crossed and towering. "What?"

"Still here?" Tiberias asked mercilessly.

Godfrey squinted up at him with small red eyes. "Here?" he croaked. "Yes, I am here. Where else would I be?"

"Well, Ibelin comes to mind. Though yesterday you were going to France," Tiberias said.

"I did what? What would I be doing in France?"

"Look for that son of yours? At least, that's what you said. In fact you swore an oath you would."

"I swore an oath?"

"A _sacred_ oath," Hospitaller chimed in.

"Damn," grunted Godfrey. And then there was a long silence.

At length he rose and gathered his robe around him. "I must go see the King," he muttered, and shambled off to put himself in order.

The two others looked at each other.

"He took that rather well," Tiberias said.

"Yes," Hospitaller agreed. And added: "It'll be all right, you'll see... I'll do my bit to make sure of it."

Tiberias frowned. "_You_ will?"

"I am going too," Hospitaller stated quietly.

Tiberias' brows shot upward. "Why's that?"

"I think," said Hospitaller, "that he may have a use for me on this journey. More than twenty-five years, Tiberias, and he meant never to return. This won't be easy for him, whichever way it goes."

"You are needed here too," said Tiberias.

Hospitaller nodded slowly. "I know. I'll be back. You'll look after things in the meantime. But," he added, "I'll hear your confession before I leave. Tonight, that is."

"I have work to do," Tiberias answered promptly.

"As have I. Several confessions, and yours will take longest. It has been what, six weeks?"

Tiberias grimaced. "I thought Godfrey said something about leaving today?"

"God will forgive a day's delay I am sure. Six weeks, however – that may be stretching it."

Godfrey returned a little later, very formal with the Ibelin arms on his breast, looking brisk and newly shaved and very slightly embarrassed.

"Just how much of a fool did I make of myself?" he asked.

"Hardly more than usual," Tiberias said. "Look, if this is –," but Godfrey waved it away.

"Tell me, just once. I did say that?"

"You did say that."

"Well then. Let's to the King. If all goes well I'll bring him back a man for once, not one of Guy's bloodthirsty pigs..."

"Don't expect too much, Godfrey," Tiberias warned.

Godfrey looked at him with clear eyes. "I don't. But it's about time I settled this, as you'll no doubt agree."

They waited in the forecourt while he asked – and received – permission to see the King, Hospitaller chatting amicably with a Benedictine clerk, Tiberias thinking hard about ways and means to keep an eye on Kerak in Godfrey's absence. So hard, in fact, that he only noticed Godfrey's return when his old friend stopped right in front of him. And only after he had said: "Well?" did he notice that Godfrey was looking rather subdued.

"He gave me leave to go. Asked me what route I am taking and wished me godspeed. I've only to ask Firuz if he wants to come, then I can leave tomorrow."

"What's the trouble, then?"

"He told me to take care of myself," Godfrey muttered. "Myself! – You'll watch over him, Tiberias."

"Yes, Godfrey, I will," he answered testily. "I and the knights of the household. It's what I do."

In the end he embraced Godfrey fiercely, holding him close and hoping it would not take too long. _That son can do without you_, he might have said, _I don't know if Jerusalem can_ – but then the King appeared to have said what was necessary; no need to add to it. But as a parting shot he promised: "Jerusalem will stand a little while longer, you know," and returned to his office to see to it.

_-- finis _


End file.
